Lunar Exile
by FCmania
Summary: You, the Last City's newest guardian, patrolled the surface of the Moon out of normal request from the Vanguard, but encountered an interesting foe.


The final Shank shrieked as it exploded from the gunfire. You finally eliminated the last of the fallen that you chased to this area on Luna.

"Was that it?" your ghost spoke for you, "I feel like the squadron would've had more soldiers at the ready."

"Guess not," you replied.  
The House of Exile was known for anything but its strength, full of outcast Eliksni of low ranks and with no servitors to supply them. It would be considered wrong to engage with such an already weak force, but this was part of your daily grind as a guardian.  
You slowly scanned the rest of the ground your Khvoshtov rifle, finger rested on the trigger. There was mostly Shank shrapnel with bullet holes, along with a handful of fallen corpses.  
Suddenly you felt a sharp pain rise from behind. Stunned from the effect, you fell forward and landed your face.

"Because of your kind, I have lost my pride as a warrior and my subordinates!"

You slowly got up to a kneel, turned around and made out the yelling creature, a large Dreg overflowing with the cerulean pulses of elemental arc energy, still with his four arms. He seemed to have emerged from a dug out hole in the ground, using a grey tarp to match the color of the surface and hide himself. While the language he spoke was in pure eliskni, you were experienced enough to make out the words.

"Guardian!" he roared, cutting off your train of thought, "Die and take your accursed title with you!"

In a quick move of rage, the fallen lunged towards you. By the time you fully stood up and went to aim, the rifle seemed to shatter within your grasp. The dreg went for a right hook to the barrel and destroyed the gun's functionality, the shear force removing the handle and the other remains from your grasp. He then delivered a left jab to your chest, the second shock sending you backwards.  
You were still standing from the attacks, but largely wounded.

"Don't worry, Guardian, I'll try and-"  
You ghost came floating by your side to heal and transmit another weapon from your loadout, but was cut off by the baron's next move, moving past you on purpose to strike the small AI and send it flying backwards and to the ground, no longer functioning.  
You went for a melee attack, but you were already at too close a range from the arc energy. The dreg caught your hand within his and drew the knife from his back.  
In a swift move, the blade sliced upward from underneath your left armpit. You could only scream as your limb was separated and the shocks kept frying your nerves.

You fell and landed on your back from the shear pain, vision blurry as you could feel yourself quickly losing blood. You looked up at the hostile figure for one last time. Fury in its eyes, it appeared as if the Eliksni warrior received all this strength from the gear he was wearing, seemingly made up of salvaged materials from the Moon's Warmind vault.  
While it seemed impossible for a guardian to die at the hands of a mere dreg, a part of you was impressed at how he was brave enough to set up an ambush and go for your most vital materials. First your weapon, then your ghost, now he has you immobilized and without one of your arms.  
The dreg grinned over his vistory, or at least the fitting expression that can be made with the limits of his mandibles. While everything felt too rushed to describe, you realized there was no coming back just as his boot came down on your forehead and crushed your skull.  
It was pitch dark for a moment, light completely absent, but a glimmer of warmth came to you within seconds, rapidly growing. It was the exact same sensation that you were used to, a trademark to the guardians' eternal life.

Your restored body rematerialized over the place where your presumably dead ghost landed, only a few meters behind the baron. Out of pure instinct, you felt a pistol form within your hand, then proceeded to fire a shot into the back rig of the Baron. The arc surges subsided and the gear seemed too heavy, as the Dreg fell down to his knees.  
He looked behind in utter shock to see that you've survived.

"You... You're still unable to die.."

"What's wrong with that? It's only because of your trap that I-"

You stopped yourself to notice the look on the eliksni's face. The eyes still retained their color, but no longer glowed, and he made some low rumble sound that you couldn't make out.

"I can't believe it... I did everything!" He cried, "even with all my effort... I'm outmatched by one of the thieves."

He collapsed in anguish, letting the weight of his rig hold him down on his back. You stood over the baron, withdrawing your sidearm and noticing your damaged ghost by your side again.

"You might have disabled me for a little bit, but arc effects never last long, and guardians are made to survive a one on one," the little light spoke, the parts around its shell loose and drooping while his voice sounded partially broken.

"Reality is so harsh," the dreg replied in solemn, "Me, my brothers and sisters, we're all already a laughing stock to our own people.."

It was a strange feeling to see a Fallen, an enemy usually filled with rage and brutality, to emote something else, something that even you haven't felt since your previous life.

"If we can't best its undead servants, the great machine will become a lost cause.. Why must it grant you the gift to cheat death...?"

"I don't continue to fight because I want to," you replied with the only response that you could muster.

"Pitiful," the baron growled, before grabbing a small device from a compartment on his leg, your eyes widening from the assumption.

"Leave me. I'm not worth your time."

Before you could move to a few paces, you flew forwards from the explosion.  
It was a quick death, but when you came to life again, all that remained in the aftermath was a charred crater.


End file.
